Take Two
by Empress Vegah
Summary: America wakes up in a foreign land, where he meets a child with a familiar set of eyebrows and green eyes. Feeling a strange sense of guilt, he decides to show the child what it's like to be loved.


**Summary**: America wakes up in a foreign land, where he meets a child with a familiar set of eyebrows and green eyes. Feeling a strange sense of guilt, he decides to show the child what it's like to be loved.

**A/N:** An entry for The Love Across Time USxUK Anthology 2012. This is for the theme Yesterday, and is Beta'd by my lovely friend Briaranise. AAAAND There's a cover art for this! Done by ubermidget in LJ!

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia's not mine.

* * *

America blinked his eyes open. He tried to gauge where he was at the moment, but all he could feel was the hard, uneven earth digging on his back, and saw the vast clear blue skies he was directly staring at. Okay then, he thought, he was lying supine on a grassy area. The muscles on his back were really beginning to complain, and he knew he had to move, but then again he didn't want to.

Because he had no freaking clue on where he was.

The last thing he could remember before waking up was walking away from England's doorstep because of another stupid argument they had. He couldn't remember what they had argued about. But he could remember the pained expression he had glimpsed on England's face as he turned back to walk out the door.

He didn't feel that good then. And at that moment, he was experiencing a tiny feeling of remorse for causing England to make that kind of expression.

But he had more important matters to attend to. Like finding out where the heck he was.

America stayed flat on the ground, making a fist with his right hand, and then his left. Good, he could still move his hands. He didn't feel any pain on the upper part of his body. He shook his right foot, then his left. He didn't feel anything weird down there, either.

But when he sat up he heard a whooshing sound and then he felt an immediate, piercing pain at the back of his head and damn that hurt! America quickly grabbed the offending object and plucked it away from his head, and he started at the arrow in his grip.

An arrow, huh?

He snapped his head to the direction of where the arrow came from and he heard a startled gasp and the sounds of something trying to get away from its place. Curious, America kicked in his serious self and stealthily followed the shuffling target.

Judging from the light crunching of leaves and how the creature was not really gaining any distance from America, he guessed that the size of it was small. He heard its soft pants, and he was quite confused when it almost sounded _human_.

He decided it was time to end this chase. He made a silent dash towards his target and leaped, pouncing on it like a predator would. His hands grabbed the struggling bundle and his ears heard a yelp of surprise, which in turn surprised him too.

It couldn't be a human he was holding, could it?

America sat up and placed it firmly on his lap. He hastily pulled away the cover – he could see that it was a cloak – and he almost dropped it back in shock.

Unmistakably familiar eyebrows that scrunched down in a massive frown were the first thing he noticed, and something deep within his guts stirred both in guilt and longing that he quickly set aside. His eyes took in then the sandy blonde hair and the very green eyes that were pooling with fat tears. The pout on the little mouth. The red cheeks. Everything was pinpointing that certain person he knew.

Oh God, America thought, no way.

Was he holding _England_?

But then, this was a _kid_ he was holding. Not older than five years old. He held the struggling kid at arm's length, turning the blonde left and right. He had a firm grip on him, not intending to let go until he could understand this… England in front of him.

So if he was holding a little England, and his surroundings were very much greener than what he was used to, then maybe, just maybe, he was not in his own time. America mentally cursed himself for feeling both apprehensive and excited with the situation he found himself in.

"L-let me go," a childish voice hinted with a sob floated in America's ears. He was surprised to hear it, and he looked down at England, really looked at him, and saw the scratches on his cheek, the cuts on the little boy's hands, the tears that England was trying (and failing) to contain, and his heart ached so much he made the decision at that moment to make it his responsibility to take care of the little England in his hands, time travel bullshit or not.

"No, I won't," America told the child and he saw rather than heard the gasp of something akin to fear coming from the boy and he berated himself for being so callous to the _child_ he was holding. He was vaguely aware of how rough he was handling the kid and tried to remember how England held him before. _His _England.

"No, I won't let you go," he began more softly, not wanting to scare the little England in his hold. He handled the boy a little more gently this time. "I'm Alfred, by the way," he said. England perked up and stared at America, which made him a bit uncomfortable. Those piercing green eyes still had that effect on him, despite whatever body England possessed.

"You don't look like the Vikings to me," England muttered, clenching America's shirt just a little bit tighter. "Nor that annoying frog who dresses up like a girl," he continued. America just hummed in agreement, unconsciously pressing the kid closer to his chest.

He stood up and carried England's past self in his arms, checking out the other minor injuries the kid had sustained. He picked up the discarded cloak, the bow and arrows on the ground.

America gave little England the best, most charming smile he could offer. "I won't hurt you," he added, and saw the boy starting to relax, and he couldn't help himself but coddle the little thing! He's just cute and so England minus the height –

The thought of England of his time, of their recent disagreement, of the pained expression he saw on England's face before he walked out from that house, made him deflate slightly. It was just too hard to keep the happy pretense when things were really not good between the two of them.

"Are you okay?" America looked at the child nation, his eyes so green and so much like his England that it hurt. America gave him a big smile and a thumbs-up. England just nodded meekly. My God, America thought. He's so cute and shy and why wasn't his England more like this?

"England, I'm going to find a stream," America said casually. The kid in his arms tensed and began to struggle, and he had to mentally smack his forehead. Of course knowing England's name would cause him to panic!

"Wait, England, stop it!" he tried to keep England still but a flash of suspicion and fear was on the kid's face and he had to talk his way out of this. "I know you, your name's all over the place," he attempted.

Little England stopped and looked at America in awe before saying, "Of course, I'm famous!" and laughed. America internally sighed and proceeded to find the stream. It didn't take him too long and he heard the sounds of shallow water. He hurried to it, England still carefully tucked on his arms.

When America arrived on the stream, he turned to little England and said, "Don't run away, okay? You're safe with me. I'll protect you." He gently patted the kid on the head. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and wet it. He motioned little England, who was standing near him – staring at him in wonder, to come nearer.

America took England's hand and pulled him closer. He gently dabbed the wet handkerchief against England's cheeks, wiping away the dust and cleaning the scratches on his chubby cheeks. He petted on the child's hair as he continued with his work.

He rinsed the handkerchief and proceeded to clean England's hands. America gave a sound of disapproval over the cuts he saw on the small fingers. If this was how _his_ England felt when he was taking care of him, then he could say he was starting to understand the green-eyed man more.

When America finished fussing over little England, the small boy looked like he was overwhelmed. "What's wrong?" America asked gently. England looked at him, and his bright green eyes were starting to water, and America had to stop himself from reaching out and giving England the biggest hug yet.

"N-nothing," the English nation replied stubbornly. America smiled. England was England no matter what time he was in.

"It's just that..." the small blonde trailed off, clearly afraid to say what he really felt. Wasn't that endearing, America thought. "Nobody had ever tried to take care of me or my wounds." England finally said.

America fell silent. He remembered the times when _his_ England tended on his cuts and bruises and chided on him when he hurt himself while playing and here this little England was, alone and with no one to care for him.

It broke America's heart a bit. Quite a bit. A lot, actually.

His resolve to take care of this England cemented, he quickly snatched the little nation up as he stood, kissing his temple in the process. He heard the gasp of surprise from England and he looked down, only to laugh at little England's rosy red cheeks.

_I'll take care of you._

It was a promise to himself and little England. And maybe to the England of his time as well.

* * *

England invited America into his home. The little nation directed his newfound friend to his dwelling place. It was a cave near the place America woke up.

America was quite curious why England was living in a cave. So he asked the boy, "England, why are you living in a cave?"

The little English nation looked up from what he was doing and replied, "I don't want to live near the people."

America volunteered to set up fire and asked again, "Why's that?"

"It's because, I don't want them to get hurt when other nations go looking for me," little England sighed. America frowned at that, but he knew he couldn't mess with history. But seeing England looking so sad despite his young appearance was just too much for him to handle.

America declared that he'd make dinner, which surprised little England, and he saw a shy smile appearing when the kid turned away. He hoped to see more of that smile, but he wasn't certain if he was referring to the one in front of him or to the one he left behind.

The two of them ate, and the cave echoed America's boisterous laughter and England's shrill denial of things. He still liked to tease England, may it be the kid version or the adult version. When it was time to sleep, America hurriedly removed his shirt and laid it on the ground and invited England over. England became hesitant, but America wouldn't accept such things and dragged the kid to his side. He cupped England's cheek, his thumb brushing against the cheekbone. The small nation began to blush beet red over the affection he wasn't used to receiving.

America laughed at England and poked his chubby red cheek. He just met this child nation that day and he was feeling overly protective and affectionate towards him already. If this was what _his_ England felt before, then he could really understand England's position: The need to protect something so precious; the urge to shower him with affection.

"You're so warm," England whispered, unconsciously cuddling closer to America's chest. America grinned at that. He knew his body temperature's higher than normal, but somehow it felt nice to be cuddled to.

America ran his fingers through the sleeping child's hair, wanting nothing more than to give this deprived little English nation the affection he deserved.

* * *

The next morning America awoke to the smell of something burning. He sat up in alarm, his eyes roaming around the cave to see if there was fire or worse, an attack.

But what he saw instead made his heart swell, and maybe a bit of laugher escaped his lips.

The little English nation was busy stirring something in the pot. He kept on coughing as the pot churned black smoke. Burning anything he cooked was totally an England-trait. He continued to watch as England struggled to cook, mixing his pot even though he could barely reach it.

America decided to make his presence known by silently going near the cooking nation and grabbed his middle, causing England to shout in surprise, while his other hand caught the ladle the child dropped. The tiny nation stilled for a moment before he struggled on America's hold, hitting him, while the taller nation just laughed really loudly and kissed England good morning.

The action immediately shut England up. America glanced down at him and the red tint on little England's cheeks were back.

America, being a teaser that he was, bombarded England his kisses of affection, from his hair, to his temple, to his forehead, to his massive eyebrows, to his nose, down to the chubby red cheeks. England was laughing and pushing America's head away in vain. Tears were starting to leak from the tiny nation's eyes and America wiped them away with his thumb.

America gave England one last snuggle before setting him down and preparing breakfast.

* * *

The two of them went outside to gather berries and other fruits they could find in the forest. America was really having fun with England, and he could see the smile on the child's face growing wider. It was nice, breathing the clean air of the past and enjoying his time with little England.

It was refreshing, to say the least. Seeing those eyebrows relaxed and carefree, the joyous laughter ringing in his ears – it was perfect for America. The affection he had for the tiny tot was overflowing. And he had to tell him.

"Hey, England," America suddenly called out.

Little England paused in reaching out to pick a berry and trotted toward the taller nation. He looked up to America and asked, "What is it, Alfred?"

England was adorable, America finally concluded. Those big green looking up at him, reflecting the adoration the little nation held for him. America squatted to England's level and took his hands, gently squeezing those chubby palms.

"England, even though you've said that no one has ever taken care of you before…" America paused, taking in the green-eyed child's look, deciding that he really needed to hear this. "I care for you, England. And there's also someone else who'll love you just the way I do," America smiled at him, wiping away the stray tear that escaped from the shining green eyes. He embraced the tiny child, closed his eyes, and whispered the words, "I love you."

America heard little England sob. He was too busy hushing the kid to notice the sudden bright lights surrounding him. He didn't hear the minute voices of girls singing in an ancient language, or see the golden dust glittering against the sun, or smell the difference of the air surrounded with magic.

He didn't notice any of these but England did.

He wrestled against Alfred's hold, trying to break free, because some part of him knew what was happening, and he didn't want Alfred to leave him, because he'd be lonely again. No one would take care of his wounds like Alfred had; no one would keep him warm at night; no one would say that he was loved and little England felt another sob escape him. He had to stop this. He had to tell the faeries to stop whatever magic spell they were attempting to cast.

"S-stop!" the tall nation heard England's stutter. But when America opened his eyes he was back in the familiar grounds of Hyde Park.

* * *

America closed his eyes again, the rays of the sun blinding him. His body felt very worn-out, and he almost couldn't move a muscle. He then sensed a shadow looming over him, blocking the sunlight, and he opened an eye to see who it was.

Massive eyebrows.

The signature frown.

Green eyes… filled with tears?

America opened both eyes immediately, and sure enough it was England kneeling beside him. But what he didn't understand was the wet look those green eyes were sporting. He motioned to sit up but England pushed him back.

"W-what..?" America croaked, his voice very hoarse. England shook his head, and the tears started to fall.

"Y-you idiot!" England yelled, taking a gulp of air before he continued. "You absolute idiot! I was so worried, so fucking worried when I couldn't sense you in my land anymore. You bloody vanished from here, git! I had to ask my faeries to look for you because I – "

America watched England speak, his eyes droopy and tired, and he really wanted to rest for a bit. He reached out and cupped England's cheek, wiping the tears. He heard England let out a soft inhale, and he grinned wearily. He suddenly clutched the back of England's head, tilted his head up and smashed their lips together, running his tongue across England's lips before breaking away.

America whispered, "Thank you for taking care of me then. But England, allow me to take care of you this time. After I take a nap." He gave his best smile despite his fatigue, and went out like a light.

England still knelt on the ground, his slacks getting dirty, but he didn't care. He traced America's face with his finger while his other hand tried to contain his sobs.

"_I care for you, England. And there's also someone else who'll love you just the way I do."_

The line rang around his head as additional memories he didn't experience beforehand popped into his brain. England clutched at America's hand and squeezed it as tight as he could, his emotions getting the better of him.

"You moronic, idiotic, bloody fool," he breathed as he tried to contain the sobs coming from his chest. "Of course it'll be you. It has always been you."

* * *

The faeries, along with their queen, were rejoicing the success of their plan. They wished England and America all the happiness they could have.

* * *

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